


The Spider's Lair

by just_kiss_already



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dubious Consent, Gore, Graphic Sex, M/M, Manipulation, suggested Jack/Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_kiss_already/pseuds/just_kiss_already
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew wants to play with his new best friend forever. Changing the ending of Mukozuke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weaving a Web

Matthew waits impatiently for Will to open his eyes. He doesn’t mind watching the man when he’s lost in his head, but today they’re in a bit of a hurry. When Will finally floats to the surface, back to reality, back to him, Matthew is already at the cell door, arms loaded with institute accoutrements.

“Time to go, Will,” he murmurs quietly.

Confused but obedient, always so obedient, Will stands. “Where to?”

“Crime scene. We have to suit you up.” When the other man steps back, Matthew raises his hand, alerting the other guard to unlock the door. Matthew swings it open and walks in, smiling. He loves the way Will’s jaw tenses, his chest expands with a deep breath. Lovely muscle tone in the institute’s jumpsuit. Matthew drops the restraints on the bed, picking the straight jacket out and holding it up. “Can’t keep Uncle Jacky waiting.” Will lifts his eyes and pierces Matthew with a look, a question, and the orderly’s breath hitches slightly. He didn’t know, couldn’t have, but delights in the knowledge. Will is such a sucker for authority. 

It’s an intense pleasure strapping Will in. He already know Will isn’t insane, well, not in the way the FBI would have the world believe. And he most likely isn’t the Chesapeake Ripper. But what does that make him? A delicate flower, withering away under the scorn of the world. No, not quite. A garden. A garden of sweet-smelling blooms, dying, wasting away, while the weeds of mental instability and murderous rage take root and flourish. Easily controlled, easily manipulated. And Matthew does love to be in control.

“Where are the guards?” Will asks, suspicion growing. Last time, two armed guards had been present at his suiting up, guarding the orderly.

“I suggested to Chilton that we have a rapport. We do, don’t we, Will?” Matthew runs a hand across Will’s back before returning to the bed for the mask. He specifically chose a smaller one, preferring to keep Will nice and quiet. No games today except for the one Matthew designed. “I also suggested that, if we treated you like a person, maybe you’d be more receptive to his treatment.” Matthew laughs as he gently tightens the straps, careful not to catch Will’s beautiful curls. “The doctor is too busy scheming to really pay attention to what’s happening right before his eyes.”

Matthew rests his hand on Will’s arm, squeezing the bicep briefly, before leading him out. They walk silently together down the halls to the exit, passing guards, orderlies, doctors. No one bats an eyelash.

Out to the van and into the back with his prize. The anticipation of the evening’s events have shivers running down his back, making the hair stand up on his arms.

\---

Matthew opens the doors and the grey sunlight, the strong light of the sinking sun, blinds Will for an instant. Instead of being strapped to the dolly, Will is allowed to exit the van on his own with Matthew’s guiding hand under his arm.

Will looks arounds, bewildered. They’re at a gym. Hardly any cars are there as people flee the night in favor of the safety of their locked homes. He tries to ask where the FBI is, where the police are, but the mask holds his jaw firmly in place, only allowing him to make a questioning noise. This brings another smile to Matthew’s face, always so jovial, as he leads Will forward.

“Okay,” Matthew sighs dramatically. “So I lied a little.” He pulls open a door and pushes Will gently in. In the close space of the hallway, he uses the straight jacket to pull the taller man closer, crowding him, so near Will can feel his breath on his face. “It’s time, baby,” he whispers and Will jerks away as far as possible, shocked by the term of endearment. “I rescued you so we can fulfill your… desire… together. Don’t you want that, Will? Don’t you want to help in killing Hannibal Lecter? It’ll be our first. I wanted to do it with you, Will.”

Will can’t stop shaking. He’d suspected something was out of the ordinary, but the full weight of the situation hits him squarely. He’s alone, unguarded, unaccounted for, with a killer. Or, if Hannibal is truly here in this gym, two killers. And he’s tied up tight.

Matthew leans in, disturbingly close, and when his mouth touches Will’s throat, Will jumps, trying to pull away but trapped by the man’s grip on his jacket. “Your heart is pounding so hard,” Matthew pants, his lips moving against Will’s pulse point. “Are you scared? Or maybe excited?” He presses bodily against Will, who can feel his erection against his leg. Revulsion prickles his scalp even as his traitorous body responds in kind. Matthew slides his hand down, over Will’s belly, down, carefully feeling Will’s hard on. “I knew it, oh Will, I knew you’d appreciate this.”

The heavy weight of the muscular man’s body is gone, leaving a cold vacuum that sucks the breath out of Will. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or… disappointed?

“Time to go, baby, don’t want to keep your doctor waiting too long or he might leave without us.”


	2. Fangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta tester, I'm sorry for any typos D:

Matthew knows the smart way to play. He'd been foolish once before, hadn't understood the rules and had paid the price. But now he is a changed man. He's seen true genius and wants to emulate it, wants to achieve brilliance as well. To go down in history. And his chance is here, whispered on dry cracked lips, a name. A chance to be the killer that killed the Ripper. And stole Will Graham away in the night like the priceless gem he is. A pretty good start. 

The smart way to play with Hannibal involves planning, and luckily Matthew has quite the head for planning. 

He pulls Will into a small room, an empty office, and turns him so he faces the wall. The tension in the man's body radiates out like a burning heat, warming Matthew. 

"I'm going to take off the straight jacket, Will," he says quietly, pawing at the straps on his back. "Then I'm going to put the handcuffs on you. I know, I know, not very trusting if we're friends, but it's for your own safety." Taking advantage of the situation, he leans forward and smells Will's hair. Unwashed but with a lingering scent of cheap hospital shampoo.

Obedient, terrified Will, not yet a cold-hearted killer but on his way, drops his hands and lets Matthew turn and cuff him so that his hands are in the front, undoubtedly a relief for Will's aching shoulders. 

The mask stays on. 

Because Matthew likes it. 

He steps back and smiles, raising his arms. "If we're going to be together, if I'm doing this monstrous task for you, then I want a favor in return. Right now." Will is wary, uncertain, a dog close to panicking. As if he has somewhere he can run to. "Help me undress, baby."

Will's body language changes, his shoulders rise and curl forward, his feet shuffle. Unwilling, but curious. Anxious. He approaches and carefully, hands still bound, slides the white jacket down Matthew's arms before dropping it onto a nearby table.

"Keep going." Matthew strokes Will's hair, encouraging. Will's breath is loud through his nose as he works, pulling the white scrubs shirt off. He pauses at the undershirt, tight against Matthew's torso, pulled so thin by his muscles that his tattoos are visible right through it. When Will grasps the bottom of it, his fingers graze Matthew's taunt stomach and he can't help it, it's so sexy, Will's reluctance and fear are making him so fucking aroused.

He grabs Will's hair, a bunch of his filthy curls in his hand like silk, so precious, and jerks his face close. Their foreheads touch. His pet project. Matthew had been disappointed when he'd realized Will wasn't a murderer, but now he understood the opportunity before him. Saw the appeal that drew Lecter to Will, a moth to a burning flame. Before Matthew stood a weak, hurt creature, but within Will was the capacity to be the greatest serial killer of all time. A capacity that Matthew wanted to touch, wanted to mold, wanted to bask in.

Reigning himself in, Matthew opened his hand with strangled reluctance, licking his lips. There will be time enough for fun after this task is completed. "Finish," he hisses. 

Shoes are untied and kicked free, leaving his pants. The man is semi-erect and it's visible through the thin cloth of the scrubs; Will's hands pause at the waistband, uncomfortable, blushing furiously, before he yanks them down.

Matthew knows they're on a tight schedule, looking at the clock on the wall he's worried that Hannibal may have already left, but damn it all he just wants to take Will's face and grind into it, suffocate him a little, make him mouth his dick through the fabric of his underwear. Just fuck his perfect sad little mouth right now. But no, he promised.

Stepping away, Matthew smiles at Will, a silent thanks as well as a reprieve from the last piece of clothing, before turning to the vent where he hid his toys for the night. Matthew pulls the grate off and slides out a small backpack. Time for the show. 

\-- 

Will is placed in a little windowless room, pushed into the shadows, and told to wait. He's not chained to anything, totally able to run now that Matthew has gone to claim his prize, except for two flaws. One, for all he knows Matthew, gun in hand, is right outside the door, or perhaps Hannibal. Either choice presents unpleasant complications. Two, where the hell would he go? He's a suspected murderer, he had no one to turn to for aid. No one that wouldn't turn right around and send him back to Chilton.

Best to wait and see. And if Matthew really kills Hannibal, well, that would be worth all this humiliation and fear.

Humiliation. Will tries to turn his thoughts away from Matthew, from the aggressive advances he makes, but it's no use. He thinks about the hallway, the feel of that dense muscled body against his own, and again his body turns traitor, his heart pounding in his throat, his own cock rising to attention, needy and aching. It's been months, he hadn't dared touch himself while under Chilton's watchful electronic eye.

Angry, painfully aroused, Will reaches up and starts to undo the mask. Matthew be damned. As the last strap loosens and it drops into his arms, Will hears doors open. A voice. Matthew. Calling out to him. 

"Come here and help me, Will!"

Stepping out of the shadow, leaving the mask behind, Will notes the look of disapproval that crosses Matthew's wet face, but that is all Will sees before his gaze is stolen. Matthew is dragging Hannibal, not having a particularly easy time of it considering the older man's build and height. Hannibal, unconscious, wet, wearing his skin-tight swimming trunks. Hannibal, utterly vulnerable. 

"You did it," Will whispers in disbelief. Matthew did it. He brought down a god. 

Matthew laughs quietly. "All for you, Will, I did it all for you. Now come help me before he wakes up."

Together they manage to get Hannibal to the back of the room. They both stand there over the prone form, staring at the man's chest as it rises and sinks in peaceful breath. After a moment of contemplation, Matthew grabs the duct tape and quickly binds Hannibal to the plywood cross he constructed.

Will finds himself at a loss. He's numb, confused. Before him lies the greatest devil he's even encountered, utter evil. Betrayer. Will is terrified of touching the unconscious body, unwilling to help bind him. God in heaven, he thinks. Please don't make me touch him.


	3. Venom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut

Once Hannibal is bound, Matthew stands, stretches, allowing himself a break. Glancing over, he sees Will, shivering, sweating, muscles locked. His eyes are glued to Hannibal and that won't do. Certainly the one who laid waste to Will's boogeyman deserves more attention than this.

Matthew grabs Will's shoulder, dragging his darling pet's mind back to reality, to the present, to him. 

"Thank me," he says, voice at normal volume. Will flinches at the sound. No point in tippytoeing around Hannibal now that he's trapped. In fact, Matthew thinks, he sincerely hopes he wakes up soon to witness the total loss of his control over this vulnerable sweet prize. 

Will looks briefly in Matthew's eyes, confused and seeking answers, before quickly looking down at the floor. At least he's not looking at Lecter anymore. An improvement. 

"What do you want?" Will asks. But it's all over his face, he knows what the man wants. 

Leaning in, Matthew nuzzles Will's sweaty neck. "Suck my cock."

Will pulls away, his face twisted. "Now?" Part stalling tactic, part fear of Lecter. Still too much influence on him by far. 

"Now," Matthew replies and, as emphasis, he grabs a handful of Will's curls--god he loves those curls--and pushes him to his knees with all his considerable strength. Will sits there, eyes darting back and forth, alighting on Lecter regularly. Damn him. "Take it out," he commands, a cold smile on his face.

So receptive to authority, Will pulls the swim trunks down and frees Matthew's soft dick. Jealousy has drained some of his arousal, but it's quickly returning as he meets Will's hurt glance. 

"Go on." Gentler this time. Kinder. A genuine smile of anticipation. "Give it a kiss."

Will leans forward and tentatively presses his lips to the head. The tip of his tongue slides out and swipes along the flesh, and Matthew's cock swells in appreciation. 

This is apparently the first time Will's touched a dick other than his own. He's disturbed, repulsed, but also on the brink of cumming himself already, by the look on his face. It's gratifying. 

Another tongue swipe before Will starts to take him into his mouth. It's so good, that deep wet heat, Matthew groans and hunches forward, staring greedily at the beautiful sight of Will's lips slowly sliding down his shaft.

"Yeah," Matthew grunts. "Fuck yes, oh, Will, baby, yes." He shifts his weight, a hand on the other man's head to keep him on the task at hand; Matthew slides his leg between Will's own, pressing his shin against the rock hard erection there. Around his dick Will whines, panting, so Matthew presses harder, causing Will to grind against his leg even as he begins to suck in earnest. 

It's not long before Will is clutching Matthew's leg and collapsing, a wet stain spreading along the jumpsuit.

"Please," Will begs, but Matthew is far from done. Hannibal hasn't woken up yet, hasn't seen Matthew's first triumph over him, and that won't do. 

With a push of his leg, Will falls, sprawling over Hannibal's body. The shock, the terror, is so complete that Will is unable to make a noise, and as he tried to scramble away, his limbs go flailing, barely under his control. 

Matthew pushes on the small of Will's back, forcing him to lay flat and still, straddling Hannibal. Quickly Matthew grabs his knife and starts cutting at Will's jumpsuit, shredding it until that perfect, pale back and ass are revealed. 

"N-no," Will whimpers, but even he knows he has no say, no control. 

Smiling, Matthew spreads Will's ass and stares at it, knowing it's humiliating. Will tries to turn to look over his shoulder, but Matthew pushes his face away, forcing him to look at the sleeping face below him.

When Will starts to move again, trying to squirm away, Matthew leans down and licks, tongue broad and flat, one long wet stripe up the man's ass. Will stills and whines, but Matthew no longer cares. This is for his own pleasure.

Always a planner, Matthew pulls a small bottle of lube out of his jacket pocket, squeezing it directly onto Will's clenched little asshole. The cold makes him jump, but when Matthew presses his cock against the virginal orifice, Will's body goes rigid. 

Agonisingly slow, Matthew pushes in. "Relax your muscles," he says, stroking Will's ass, "don't tense or it'll hurt more."

More. An acknowledgement that this will hurt and that he simply doesn't care.

As Matthew begins to pump his hips in earnest, Will cries out, arms giving out so that he collapses on Lecter's chest, giving Matthew a view of the other man's face. And there it is, a slight gleam under his eyelashes, a giveaway. 

"I know you're awake," Matthew pants, struggling to control his orgasm as his victory looms closer still.


	4. Spinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is awake.

Hannibal opens his eyes fully, staring down the young interloper. Intruder. Thief. The man’s face is slack with ecstasy, jaw unhinged, disgraceful. No control. Thrusting into Will like a rutting animal. Utterly without grace or style, an affront.

There are pluses to this situation, though, if Hannibal is honest with himself. The feel of Will on top of him, his sweat-sticky skin, his erection grinding into Hannibal’s thigh. Even the cold cutting edge of the cuffs around Will’s hands present an interesting sensation.

But really, it’s such a childish attempt at breaking Will. So lacking in finesse. Pathetic. Not to mention the bindings holding Hannibal. His arms may be secured--and duct tape, really, so low--but his legs are entirely free.

Their eyes meet and a filthy sneer twists the boy’s mouth. Crude and malicious. Then, abruptly, he pulls out, eliciting a strangled cry from Will, before flipping him over onto his back. Will’s ass is pressed against him, his curved back forcing Will’s spine into Hannibal’s abdomen. “Praise me,” the interloper murmurs, lovingly, stroking the other man’s cheek even as he continues to pump his straining dick.

Hannibal can hear the confusion in Will’s voice, the uncertainty, the eagerness to please. “You… Thank you… Matthew, I don’t-”

“Praise me. Tell me I did a good job.”

“You did, I’m in your debt,” Will replies promptly.

“More.” Matthew leans down and lays a kiss on Will’s stomach while spreading his legs, repositioning himself. Will’s body goes stiff, awkward, atop Hannibal and a slight spark of anger alights in his chest. How dare he treat Hannibal’s toy so roughly.

“You did what no one else could do, it’s amazin-” His voice cuts off, strangled, when Matthew forces himself in. He rests some of his weight on the other man, forcing him down further against Hannibal. “You’re… strong… smart…Your body… Please-” Hannibal is forced to grit his teeth, beginning to seethe.

Catching Hannibal’s eye, Matthew lowers his head into the nape of Will’s neck and bites. As Hannibal watches, he continues to bite, harder, harder, and Will begins to beg. The pain must be excruciating, and blood begins to seep ever so slightly from behind those bow lips. An insult. While Matthew most likely just intends it to be a mark, a claim on Will’s body, Hannibal finds it doubly insulting, considering how he uses his trophies.

Matthew’s eyes flutter, close, as his orgasm crests, undoubtedly certain of his victory.

Enough.

Under the cover of Will’s frantic squirming, his kicking and pushing, Hannibal raises his leg, eyes on Matthew’s closed ones, aims, and kicks.

Matthew goes sprawling even as his cum splatters poor, bleeding William. Screaming William. Twisting his hips, Hannibal rolls Will off of himself and struggles to his feet, even as Matthew sits on the floor, naked but unconcerned, laughing.

“What are you planning on doing, Doctor?!” Matthew yells, eyes wide and feverishly bright. He glances at Will and Hannibal takes the opportunity to land a solid kick to the man’s jaw. Matthew falls back, head cracking on the floor, but his insane, childish laughter continues. Enraged, Hannibal lands on Matthew, his knee planted firmly in his abdomen, causing the younger man to cough and gasp, nearly vomiting, panicked. Unable to breathe. Good.

Hannibal leans as far down as he can without overbalancing. In a minute, he will break this ridiculous wooden bar on that hyena’s face, but for now his anger has hold of him, words bubbling inside his chest. “You can’t win,” Hannibal hisses in Matthew’s face. “You’ll never win.” On the tip of his tongue are the words he’s mine, but Hannibal catches himself.

Struggling for breath still, but oddly unconcerned with freeing himself, Matthew lifts his head and murmurs quietly, “he’s already mine. You took too long playing and now he’s all mine. He loves me.”

Hannibal lifts his head, suddenly all too cognizant that Will is no longer crawling across the floor in an effort to get away.

No, instead, Will is standing a good distance away, shivering like a wet dog, gun in hand pointed as squarely as possible at Hannibal.

Standing, Hannibal turns to his mongoose, his project, his friend. “Will,” he calls out, “no, listen to me-”

“No more!” Will shouts. His eyes are sunken, dark, but lit from within with a wicked fire. “Matthew?” he says, softer, weak.

The young man is rising to his feet, shaking his bleeding head. “I’m okay, Will.” He stumbles towards Will, and it’s all Hannibal can do to not tackle this pathetic imitator. To smear his flesh and blood, his viscera, all over the floor.

Matthew stands behind Will and places a hand on his hip, leaning his head on the taller man’s shoulder. “Do it,” he whispers. “Or you’ll never be free.”

Will closes his eyes as his hand tightens on the gun. The explosion is deafening but the betrayal is so much worse, filling Hannibal’s head with noise. He senses the bullet entering him, feels the horrible agonizing pain even as a small clinical part of his brain takes inventory. Hannibal falls and lays there, waiting to see what comes next.

Murmured conversation, heated whispers, and then footsteps. Hannibal steels himself for a final, fatal shot, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. Instead, silence. They’ve left. The interloper has taken his prize.

Footsteps, yelling, but not the pleasing sound of his precious mongoose, no. Jack and Alana. Jack looms in his vision and Hannibal hears him yell what he already knows.

It’s not fatal.

Lucky for Hannibal. Not so lucky for Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do plan on continuing. Not nearly enough smut.  
> Also, thank you thank you thank you for the kind words!!! They give me the strength to continue! (Well, that and Matthew's abs.)


	5. Carapace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape

The motel is quiet, ugly, cheap. The kind of hide out your would expect criminals on the run to take, and utterly perfect. Sleezy and dark. Atmospheric.

Matthew left the van in favor of a car jacking, scaring the ever loving hell out of some poor middle-aged hausfrau before ditching that car to hitchhike. Catatonic Will had raised some eyebrows as he sat, shivering, silent, but Matthew had always explained away his brother’s “condition.” You learn a lot of useful lingo in a nuthouse.

Sadly, Matthew’s clothes he’d brought from home did not fit Will very well, he hadn’t taken into consideration the height difference, but his shabby appearance just contributed to the cover story. And in every car ride received, huddled together in the back seat as the driver cast wary glances in the mirror, Matthew had held Will and rubbed his back, whispering in his ear.

“You did it, you did it. You’re free. We’re free.”

At the motel, Will stands in the doorway, casting his eyes about the room but not really seeing. Matthew locks the door and places a chair under the knob, just as a little added precaution. He's a mess, stinks of chlorine, sweat, blood, semen, so he starts pulling his clothes off, tossing them onto the bed. "C'mon, Will, we both reek."

Will blinks and looks at him, blank, but so beautiful. Matthew is overcome with love for this damaged creature, can finally understand how Will always collected all those stray dogs. He had truly proven himself by shooting Lecter tonight. But underneath it all, hidden carefully away in a tiny chamber of his heart, Matthew is furious. Furious that Hannibal was able to break Will so completely before Matthew had a chance to do it himself.

As Matthew begins to undress Will, unbuttoning his shirt, the older man rouses himself out of his stupor. "No," he says, grabbing at his hands. "No, wait-"

Matthew stares up into Will's eyes even as they dart away from his face. "Baby, we're filthy."

Will shakes his head, clearing it, reorienting himself to the present. "No," he says again, with more force. Unexpected. The hands on Matthew's wrists tighten and he finds himself being forced back. Matthew stumbles, confused, trying to maintain his footing as Will pushes him against the wall.

Before Matthew can speak, Will covers his mouth with his own, his tongue forcing it's way past Matthew's lips briefly. A decidedly unexpected turn of events. One Matthew isn't displeased with. When he first had discovered Will, first made contact, he'd been looking for an anchor, desperately hoping to find the one with the imagination and abilities he could truly respect. What he'd gotten was unexpected, a chance to mold Will into the man Matthew needed, the man he'd first thought Will was, his ideal partner.

Matthew smiles into Will's mouth, unable to help himself. He'd been the instrument of this change in Will, he freed the other man, released him from all of his bonds mental and otherwise. Twisting his hands free, he grabs Will's shoulders, his fingers claws, talons digging into the muscle and skin.

"What are you smiling about?" Will says, head bowed, eyes closed. Matthew is unable to read him, unable to determine what next to say. He opens his mouth to answer, opting for flippant, when Will yells, "what are you smiling about?!"

Matthew freezes, startled.

"Will," he murmurs after a moment, his tone warning. "Don't get yourself worked up, baby, take it easy."

Will's hands come up, rest on the nape of Matthew's neck, kneading the flesh there forcefully. "Everyone telling me what to do," he says, more to himself than anyone else.

Matthew's head is reaching a new level of pain from where it hit the floor at the gym, and the unpleasant massage isn't helping things. His voice lowers, grinds itself down into gravel, his anger bubbling up and aroding his kindness to sand. "Will. Go sit down." The older man is either oblivious or ignoring him, and that won't do. "Will," he warns, but that's as far as he gets as Will's hands shift and tighten around his throat, strong, thumbs driving hard in an effort to crack his windpipe.

His little killer is starting to rear it's head, but his aim appears to be off.

Using the wall to steady himself, Matthew pushes on Will's shoulders with all his might, snarling silently. Their faces are contorted, both turning wolfen, all fangs and saliva and flashing eyes. Kicking a foot against the wall, Matthew drives Will back, sending them both crashing to the floor.

Unfortunately, he's reaching his limit. His grip loosens and he rolls away, struggling to get to his feet as the room tilts and spins. Clawing at the bedspread, he's dismayed when he feels Will's hand close around his ankle and drag him back down. Unable to properly catch himself, Matthew's face hits the carpeted floor, thankfully only resulting in a bloody nose, but sending his poor brain reeling.

He feels hands on him, Will's, pawing at him, shoving his clothes about, revealing piecemeal the unclean skin beneath.

"Will!" He tries to be commanding, forceful, but the word comes out a drunken mess. "Stop!"

Will's mouth is on him, licking, biting, oh god biting so hard all up and down Matthew's torso. He tries to push him away, but every time Will slips out of his hands like water, a brief silken handful of curl or the feel of a straining, stubbled jaw.

"Will!"

The man begins to lick and bite his nipple, working it past the point of pleasure until it's a raw nerve. The biting intensifies again and Matthew is uncertain whether he still possesses it.

Again the shuffling of clothes, Will's hands on the buttons of his jeans, and Matthew begins to panic. "No!" he groans, weakly struggling.

Hot breath in his ear, a scratchy, patchy beard on his cheek. "You wanted a killer," Will whispers. "You all wanted a killer. Pushing me. Always pushing. No more." He bites Matthew's earlobe until the man screams. "I will not be controlled. The gameplan is changing, Mr. Brown. The roles are shifting." The bite to Matthew's neck feels like a love-nibble in comparison. "You're going to get what you hoped for. Too late to go back."

The weight of Will vanishes off of him, and Matthew rolls onto his belly and claws at the carpet, trying to pull himself to safety. Away. His addled brain can only think, away.

Without warning, his jeans are tugged down and the worst bite yet lays waste to one cheek of his ass, but Matthew is so exhausted and weak he is unable to do anything more than try to buck his assailant off. A pisspoor job of it, too.

There is something hot and slippery rubbing against his anus and he shudders, knowing what is coming.

And the shudder isn't entirely unpleasant.

As Will forces himself into Matthew, without prepping, making the younger man struggle in agony again, Will lays himself across him, weighing him down, pinning him. Will grunts in his ear as he thrusts, and then his hand is snaking around Matthew's waist, sliding down to discover the rock-hard erection there. Matthew can't help himself, a smile blooms on his face, his teeth streaked with blood from accidentally biting the inside of his mouth.

"Will," he pants as the man's hand slides up and down his shaft. "Please, Will."

"Shut the fuck up," Will snaps. His hands leave Matthew's cock and instead circle his throat again, squeezing, a little gentler but still cutting the airflow down to the merest perfect. Matthew feels his muscles clench, knows he's tightening around Will even as his own orgasm starts to swell, burning, in his guts. Matthew ruts against the rough carpet in time to Will's frantic fucking, enjoying the friction. It's close. He wants to tell Will, wants to, christ, he wants to beg to be allowed, he wants to cum but he wants to please Will, this new Will, even more. But it's too late. The swelling tidal wave of molten lava swirls up through his body and crashes back down and he feels his cum spreading hot and wet, underneath his belly. Meanwhile, Will pumps with a new level of fury until he shudders, his body stiffening, and he explodes inside of Matthew.

Will's hands release him and Matthew crawls away, crawls out of reach and to relative safety. For now, anyway, at least until Will catches his second wind. Matthew drops his head to the floor and waits, resting, struggling to not fall into miserable sleep. He wants to stay awake and record in his mind every minute of this new Will. The Will he had originally imagined, the Will he wanted. A man worthy of idolization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Power struggle. Change in dynamic. Still not done, either!


End file.
